The new city. Beneath velvet skies, bathed in the pale light of the moon, the great skyscrapers gleam shining silver; Every building an island of radiance in a sea of shadow, ascending upwards and outwards into infinity.

The car smells of fresh leather and quiet wealth. A smoked-glass screen separates the passenger compartment from the driver's section - Through the misty glass, you can make out the slight motion of Aoba's form as he relays instructions, his words muffled to indecipherability.

The ride is a short one - Just long enough to be uncomfortable, every moment bleeding into the next. The shadows play over Isao's face; He looks wan, exhausted, and so very, very young. More than once, he glances up at you, as if for reassurance - His lips pressed together in a thin line, as the city blurs into a smear of motion beyond the window.

The engine purrs, as it pulls into the covered driveway of the company clinic. Even here, the faint smell of paint and antiseptic linger; New enough to be cloying, even as the doors swing open - Parting the abstract silver fox-head symbol of Sterling Industries right down the middle, EMTs at the ready.

In pale blue and white, they secure Shuya's limp form with a quiet competence - The stretcher's wheels rattling as they roll him through the double-doors; A fitful red light flickering into existence as they swing shut behind him, a splash of crimson amid all that silver.

The car doesn't wait. As soon as Aoba disembarks - Straightening his tie, absently - it pulls away in sleek silence, merging seamlessly with the gloom. The lights blink once, again - And then it's gone, as quickly as it came.

His eyes close, for a heartbeat. He sighs, his shoulders setting; Like a man squaring up to a burdensome and unwanted task.

"Anon," he says, without preamble - Indicating a side-annex of the building, with a tilt of his head. "-This way."

"Where are they taking hi-" Isao begins, starting forward - Only to be speared by Aoba's swift glance. He stops, mid-sentence; Stiffening in place beneath his regard, his expression confused and imploring at once.

"Right," Isao says; He seems to receded into him, a little more, his voice leaden. "Right, I'll just..." He fumbles with his trailing scarf, his breath puffing in the air as he looks around for a place to sit-

Aoba gives a slight - faintly irritated - shake of his head. "He can wait in the main building," he concedes; You can't help but feel, somehow, that you've scored a point.

He turns, with a sweep of his coat - His long strides eating up the distance, as he crosses over to the annex door. A keycard chirps, and it swings open; Aoba glances over his shoulder, to make sure you're following, and steps across the threshold...

You catch a momentary, fleeting glimpse of the hallway beyond - Before the walls and floor go translucent, then transparent, into something as clear as glass but as hard as steel. There's energy in it, too - A low, subliminal charged hum that shivers through the narrow space, ghost-readings dancing at the edge of your HUD.

And beyond *that*-

You stand on a walkway extending across - And above - a great chamber; Row after row of perfectly cubical cells, stacked up on either side in an achingly precise configuration. Most are empty; Some are darkened to near-opaqucity, not quite enough to hide the riling motion of the dark shapes inside...

A gleaming silver knight, Armaros clomps ahead; The vanes of his backpack shedding vapour, the distortion halo between the focusing array muted to a low murmur. He seems, as always, faintly ungainly for a Player - His form bulked-up, expanded, with grafts of myomer fibre and gleaming silver, compared to the brutal elegance of your crimson plate.

A few yards forward, it's a dead end - A wall of solid polygons, flat and opaque. Armaros manipulates something small, between his oversized fingers; He swipes across the face of the black card he holds, and the world lurches into a new configuration.

> EXEC_INSIDER

Suddenly, you're down *there*, walking between the rows of cells - The effect is momentary disorientating, made worse by the lack of a transition: It's as if you've stepped from one level to the next in the space of a breath, to be brought to a sudden and lurching stop.

(My sincerest apologies; I've actually removed that property from EXEC_BARRIER. In playtesting, it proved to require too much bookkeeping - At any rate, the Codeburst has to be directed at you for it to function.)

The cell to your right shivers, slightly, from an internal impact; The mist momentarily clears, and you see-

...It's a Corrector. Some kind of avian beast - A raptor-analogue, perhaps, with scything talons and the cruel curve of a hooked beak. Gleaming filaments thread into it's flesh, from above and below; It's enmeshed at the centre of a great silver web, the impossibly-fine filaments shimmering with a faint green glow, as...

-As they leech the Essence from it. It rebounds from the wall, leaving it undented; About to struggle upright again, before the walls turn almost-opaque once more.

> [X] "Where are we?"

Armaros stops. Looks back.

"Officially, this is a Sterling Industries company clinic - One of the many around the city, open on a 24-hour basis." His voice is tinny, echoing slightly within the chamber - "But we know it as Reclamation Facility Designate #1-08."

[ ] "...What are you *doing* to that Corrector?"[ ] "'Reclamation' Facility?"[ ] "What does this have to do with Rook?"[ ] "Where's Argent Prominence?"[ ] "You're full of surprises, aren't you? I never knew this existed."[ ] Free.

>>30968788[X] "You're full of surprises, aren't you? I never knew this existed."

[X] "Why would you need to reclaim Essence from Correctors? Isn't destroying them enough? Or is this to prevent leakage?"[X] "How good are the threads at separating Player Essence from the virus? Wait, is Argent himself controlling the threads?"

> [x] "He sure knows how to keep his resources well hidden. Could learn a thing or two from this."> [X] "You're full of surprises, aren't you? I never knew this existed."

Armaros makes a noncommital sound; The plates of his reactive armour articulate, as he shrugs.

> [X] "...What are you *doing* to that Corrector?"> [X] "Why would you need to reclaim Essence from Correctors? Isn't destroying them enough?"

He hesitates - As if unsure how much to reveal to you. But then, he says:

"As long as their structure remains intact, all Red World constructs gradually replenish their store of Essence." The lens of his helmet flicker, as Armaros considers the cells on either side. "By gradually depleting the reserve - And allowing it to regenerate - the overall yield is significantly greater."

A blink-click.

"...Or so I've been told, at least."

> "Or is this to prevent leakage?"

"-It's more than that," Armaros admits, almost grudgingly. "There are...other uses for Correctors, once the harvesting is complete." He falls silent, for a moment - The servoes in his neck whirring, as he glances upwards.

"The Manifold Project is always in need of raw material."

> "Wait, is Argent himself controlling the threads?"

His silence speaks volumes.

> [X] "How good are the threads at separating Player Essence from the virus? > [X] "That thing is turning him into a corrector, isn't it?"

"That," Armaros says, heavily, "...is what we're here to find out."

You walk on in silence, for a little longer - Then, at some silent signal, Armaros comes to a stop again.

This cell is a modified one; Suspended on a silver cross - The twisting struts of the metal growing out from the ground - Palladium Rook's form is enmeshed at the heart of a web of filaments. They sink into him, into the cracks of his armour - Like a million needles, lancing through his cuirass, tendrils finer than human hairs burrowing into him, sniffing their way up and down his backbone, twisting up through the hole where the spine enters the skull.

A quartet of blank-faced Players stand attendance; All five are neutral silver humanoids seemingly cast from the same mold - They circle him, holographic windows opening and closing in a cascade of data. You note that they're careful not to touch him: However, the impossibly fine threads glisten with black oil, siphoned from his form.

"-Interesting," Armaros utters. His head is canted to the side; He must be privy to some readings you can't perceive. "They're reading elevated levels of a, a...alien substance. It seems remarkably tenacious - From the looks of it, they're attempting to gradually siphon it off."

"Also.... this thing is connected to the black joker, somehow. Earlier, he was growing black roses on the vines growing out of him."nice and easy, provides crucial info without involving the hollow un.

>>30969018I'm not opposed to weapons research, but the key to getting the most out of any resource is maximizing how long you have it. The survivability options will improve this the most. Reactive Plating is lower down my list because I want to grab some Red Comet upgrades.

>>30969039Thanks. Next time we meet Rook, I want him to build a new function into Leukocyte: teleportation. Use the new research option as a technological base and the Joker/Tri-Star Emblems as target locks and the Hollow Sun's inner chamber as a destination.

>>30969026>[X] "...And his body?">[X] "You don't seem particularly concerned.">[X] Take a closer look. >[X] "Tell them to be careful. That stuff is toxic.">[X] "According to my info it's the Black Joker."

And a shot in the dark, but what the hell. "Armaros, would you kindly say 'Fumito-san is very important to us'?"

>>30969129>Thanks. Next time we meet Rook, I want him to build a new function into Leukocyte: teleportation. Use the new research option as a technological base and the Joker/Tri-Star Emblems as target locks and the Hollow Sun's inner chamber as a destination.

>>30969139Someone from within Sterling Industries gave the Red Joker Bardiel's location without Argent Prominence's go ahead. We've been saying it was an inside job by the Smilers because it amuses us to spread chaos, but I want to know who it really was.

>>30969146Potentially. Maybe even probably, but I'd prefer to not make assumptions about secondary features of items in the game.

>>30969169Again, probably, but if the principles are known, maybe Tyrian can direct the Hollow Sun's internal logic circuits in that direction.

An autoloader *clunk* echoes from somewhere within Armaros - The mechanical equivalent of a grunt. He straightens, turning to face you; "For what he's done? No. No, not particularly."

His visor swings back towards Rook's pinioned form - There's the faintest edge of distaste to his words, now, audible even through the emotionless filter of his voice.

"-In my opinion, Rook was never good for much. He certainly wasn't fit to lead a squad; I always knew he'd come to a bad end. This-"

And Armaros inclines his head.

"...has been a long time in coming."

> "Armaros, would you kindly say 'Fumito-san is very important to us'?"

He stops. In the space between one breath and the next, Armaros goes completely still - From a Player to a statue. There's a long, deadly silence...And then he makes that machine-loader clunk again, and looks away.

"-You're sharper than I thought, Joker." he growls, with grudging respect.

>>30969146Speaking of assault shroud upgrades, I want to see if we can induce a permanent codeburst conversion. I want EXEC_SWARM to be the new default form of the shroud, the armor consuming locust swarm becoming the "fabric"- a literal nanomachine colony attached to our body. I was also thinking we could hook the swarm shroud up to a modified void anchor. Instead of transporting essence to the hollow sun it feeds the shroud, so when we deploy fortress mode it can act as it's own little hive spawning in more locust swarms, shrike blade volleys, cracker explosive waves (when we get capa), lasting illusion fields (when we get capote), etc...

>>30969184I'm pretty sure a some of Red Comet's research options are based on the Halo Shroud. Mimetic Alloys and Galvanic Emitters, for one.

>>30969237"Since our first meeting. When you talk about Argent there's an edge to you that isn't there otherwise. You'd do anything for him, even betray him, if you thought it would help him."

"And apparently I've been too subtle: The Black Joker is an entity that is to me what I am to the rest of you. The reason you don't know it exists is that it has killed everyone who has ever laid eyes on it with two exceptions: Argent Prominence is one of them. My predecessor was the other."

>>30969237>"Death Caliber was in no way the Black Joker. He was just a random player that somehow got one of Black Joker's relics and got consumed by it.">"The Black Joker is no rumor, no urban legend, though I'd prefer if he was. If I had to choose between fighting him or facing all the Smiler top tiers at the same time alone, then I'd choose the latter."

> [X] "Well, I was only speculating. I wasn't sure until now."> [X] "You'd do anything for him, even betray him, if you thought it would help him."

"Betrayal?" The word echoes in the air. "-Bardiel needed killing, Joker. It's as simple as that." The glow in Armaros's eye-lens redoubles; A fitful, sulphurous glow beneath his visored faceplate.

"There are lines that Argent Prominence isn't willing to cross. But to make a better world - To make a *safer* world - there are some things that *have* to be done." He grinds out the words, his voice flinty - As if he's chewing rocks.

"-He lived like a dog, and you put him down like one. You had your reasons for wanting him dead, too - Cypher said as much."

You take a step closer, until you're almost pressed up against the not-glass. As if in response, Palladium Rook twitches slightly, like a dog with nightmares.

>>30969394> "And apparently I've been too subtle: The Black Joker is an entity that is to me what I am to the rest of you. The reason you don't know it exists is that it has killed everyone who has ever laid eyes on it with two exceptions: Argent Prominence is one of them. My predecessor was the other."

You stand in a small, Spartan room that smells strongly of antiseptic - There's a small table, flanked by a pair of folding chairs; The floor is achingly clean, a sign - EMPLOYEES ONLY - picked up in red and white overhead.

"Let's say I believe you," Aoba says. The rich smell of caffeine wafts upwards from the coffee machine, as he pours himself a cup. Even at ease, there's an alert air to him; You notice that he never quite takes his eyes off you, not for long.

"Let's say - For the purpose of this argument - that there *is* a 'Black Joker' at large." He has the faintly superior tone of someone with absolute confidence in his own opinion.

>>30969507>"I would have you stay away. Be cautious of anything that has a connection with him.">"I'll search for any signs of him and try to figure out how the Smilers got hold of something that could have caused "this". Sadly, it's a Joker's job to outjoke a Joker."

"I need -leads-. Every time I find smilers, or anyone else really it ends in fights, not answers. I think your people have the best feel for.... zones of influence and control, and how it maps from the red to the real and back. Its intertwined now, and getting closer and closer. The only way we get ahead of something like this is by working together."

"Argent is so furious with me He wouldn't even consider coming down from his tower."

>>30969507"So long as you don't present a target of opportunity, Black Joker will come straight for me. All you have to do is... well, nothing, so far as that is concerned. But something else comes to mind."

"Armaros... has Argent told you why he's displeased with me? Have the rumors reached you yet? I took control the Original Hive. Rook gathered a team. I armed them and led them. We did quite well all things considered. Kraken killed more Players than the descent.

"The weapons I provided proved effective. Armaros, I want to make a deal. With Argent if possible, but he's quite put out with me, so I'll take it to you first. I want the Smilers dead. They're going to come for you--Sterling, I mean. Most of the Players with your group are mid-level, but their overall combat experience is low. The weapons I can offer let 40 disparate units punch into the Original Hive with minimal losses.

"I just want two things. First, I want the weapons used to kill Smilers and Correctors. I imagine you don't have any problems with that. Second, I want the Manifold Project data. I have no intentions of interrupting Argent's work. I want the data as a backup, and stored in an area completely unaffiliated with Sterling Industries, so if anything should happen to the Bastion there's a chance to rebuild. I'm even willing to waive the second condition if it will induce you to accept the first.

"Oh, and I'd also like any codeburst data you might be willing to share, I've recently developed some suspicions about the system, but need more variables to test."

"Because he's been *so* reliable so far," Aoba observes, stirring his coffee with a silver spoon. It's still much too hot, apparently. "We're aware of the Smilers, of course. We know that they pose a..."

He purses his lips.

"-A moral threat. But..."

"We need to be pragmatic about this. To be blunt; As long as we hold the Bastion, the rest doesn't matter." There's the slightest edge to his words, now. "-We certainly don't need someone provoking them further."

"You're asking for a lot," he says, mildly. "The fact is; We've already made our preparations. Believe me, they're extensive - The only reason you're here is because, very soon, we'll be shutting down this facility, too."

"In two months, maybe one, the Red World will no longer matter." He allows himself a smile at last, a condescending one - "...And then you can go back to being a schoolboy."

"Isn't that fortunate?"

[ ] "...You want to *try me*, asshole?"[ ] "You're assuming that the world will last that long."[ ] "You think the problem's just going to go away?"[ ] "-How did you *ever* live this long?"[ ] "Tell me, have you even seen what the Smilers can do?"[ ] Free.

>>30969719>"That's all fine and dandy. I'm honestly rooting for you and I admit that I have great hopes for Argent's plan.">"Sadly, I am a paranoid person. I do not believe that the Smilers will just sit back and watch as you lock away the Red. I do not trust you to succeed like this.">"Here's a fun fact: the Smiler's likely do not intend to play fair. They won't be as blunt and direct as I and raid the Bastion without much of a plan. They may intend to do it from the inside-out, or maybe strike from the Real."

>>30969719"I'd love to belive you, if this plan works argent would have my eternal gratitude...

But it won't. There are too many variables at play here. You've spent too long banking your hopes on this last ditch effort, when you should've been preparing for war. Pazuzu will bring that war to you I guarantee it.

>>30969870>Come to think of it, we've just handed Black Joker entry to Argent's secure Essence extraction network, haven't we? Whoops.For once it's a fuck up we can't be blamed for. It feels strangely nice even if when shit backfires from it we will be the one blamed anyways.

>>30969891>I say no to this, for the first time in Anon's lige Argent is the one that's wrong here.I think it's a fine line. There is no need for RJ to hold a grudge over this.when he can just neutrally wave it off and then watch as Aoba and argent swear after realizing their mistake.

His curiously blank eyes narrow, fractionally - You note a flicker of...*something*, gone as quickly as it comes.

"-I'm supposed to believe this? That the dead are coming back to life?" Aoba says - There's a slight twist to his lips, a kind of polite disbelief. "If you hit their base...I'd say that they've been crippled - Even if you give them too much credit."

Aoba's brow furrows. He sets his cup down, disbelief etched on his features.

"This is your idea of helping? Gathering the scum of the Red World - Trying to start a war?" He makes a curt gesture - "Setting half the city on fire? Getting dozens of Players killed? That's how you're trying to help us?"

> [X] "-How did you *ever* live this long?"> [X] "Tell me, have you even seen what the Smilers can do?">>30969861

His chair scrapes back, as he stands - Abruptly, real passion in his words, now. Suddenly, he's in your face.

> Forgot to add, get up and leave. Let's get Isao home, text Rena that Mio's okay and a prank we'd suggested backfiring was why she disappeared, and see if Kazuya is free.

Your phone beeps, as your messages wings their way across the ether.

A gust of cold air greets you, as the doors slide open. Isao - A little stiff, a little clumsy - rises to his feet, his hands in his pockets. It's true night now; Hard to believe that it's all happened in a single day, so far.

>>30970035>"All is fair in love and war, Aoba. That is something both you and Ebara should learn.">"If you can neither fight this war of support me, then I don't have any other choice than to fight it myself. It's already begun, and you two no longer have a say in how it goes from now on. If I have to, I'll gather my own army or fight alone."Stand up to leave."Just like you, I've come too far. The main difference between us is that I no longer have morality to hold me back."

>>30970094>[X] "They're keeping him under observation, for now.">[X] "Come on. Let's get you home.""His people have him. There's a treatment that should work, with time. I'll see if we can set it up so you can visit, but they're going to be awfully busy soon."

>[X] "They're keeping him under observation, for now.">[X] "Come on. Let's get you home."

"Oh," Isao says. He looks down, and goes quiet.

You walk on in silence, for a while. It's a clear night; The dust storms of the previous days have ceased, and the air is crystal-clear. Isao shivers slightly as he trudges along, his hands in his pockets - You notice that he's biting his lip, clearly working up to something.

> Can Isao able to contact the survivors of the strike team?

He nods.

"Shuya...He showed me how to, before, well..." Isao looks away. "I don't know who these people are, but...I can g-get the word out. If you need me to, that is."

It's a little further to the bus stop. The streets are quiet, here - Sometimes, it seems that the city is emptying out, slowly; You cut through a tiny park, the grass rimmed with frost.

And then-

"Anon-"

Isao moves in a loose-limbed surge, hurrying to get ahead of you. He bows from the waist, head down, as the words come out of him in a rush.

"Please - Show me how to fight!"

He grits his teeth: "I want...I want to *do something*. I hate being useless - Having to rely on other people! If I'd been better, maybe Shuya wouldn't have..."

His breath catches. "So - Joker, please! Teach me how to be like you!"

Something in your voice silences him, makes him go pale. He inhales, sharply - For a moment, it's clear that he doesn't trust himself to speak.

"All right," he says, at last - His voice shaky. "...Then, I'll - I'll think about it." For all his bravado, it's clear that he's deathly afraid, all the same - But given how he survived the Hive, perhaps he'd made of sterner stuff.

Or perhaps he's just lucky.

He backs away from you, cautiously - A step at a time - Until he's out of earshot. It's only then that he turns, his footfalls crunching against the snow.

You wonder what his decision might be, come morning.

As your breath smokes in the cold air, the electronic blurt of your phone cuts through the stillness; Kazyua's voice cheery as always, a faint roar of noise in the background.

> "Hey, Anon - Didn't think you'd be calling back, man!"> "Listen - If you're free, we could hang out at our old haunt, you know that one."> "You got something on tonight?"

It's not that far from here, come to think of it - At the border between the old city and the new. The ugly, square-cut buildings of new constructions - Raw, somehow, with the same blocky aesthetic - gives way an uneven, cluttered skyline. Your 'old haunt' is a derelict mall; One of those places that's constantly in a state of disrepair, always awaiting a new coat of cracked and peeling paint...But familiar and somehow reassuring, one of the few landmarks that's remained relatively untouched.

And a sign, in bright neon that would've been tacky twenty years ago:

YOSHIDA BATTING CENTRE.

The entrance to the mall is sealed off - A plastic barricade erected, a glance through the battered glass panels revealing only scarred and empty stalls. But then-

"Yo, Anon!"

You look around.

"-Over *here*, man!"

The voice comes from above - Perched on the fire escape, Kazuya beams down at you; He has one of those oversized plastic bags in his left hand, and he's waving with his right.

"Yeah, that's right - This way!"

A rusted metal grate blocks the exit - But steel rungs form a makeshift ladder up to the next level, worn from long use.

>>30970555I wanted to tell AP we've got about a week after the festival before the world ends, if we don't take action. Personally, I'm for relaxing until we have to prepare to defend the Festival from Smilers.

You set your feet on the rungs below - Pull yourself up, hand-over-hand. The trick is to move quickly, and not look down...But somehow, it seems higher than before. The cold wind gusts around you, your coat flapping in the breeze - And then you haul yourself up and over with a grunt, the fire escape creaking beneath you with a shriek of rusty metal.

"-Yo, well done. Here, catch!"

Kazuya's wearing his favourite coat - The one with that ridiculous fur trim, the collar turned up. He tosses a soda can to you, underhand; You catch it, the metal cold against your fingers. His bag clinks - He's stocked up on snacks beforehand, apparently.

"Thought you weren't going to make it, man-" Kazuya chortles; He begins to ascend the steps, his shoes clashing against the open steel gratings. "C'mon, this way."

Four storeys up, and you're at the rooftop - It's all green tarmac, safety netting and railings bordering the area. A grubby arcade corner, the machines filling the air with tinny white noise, is tucked away at the side along with some rather dubious-looking vending machines.

Kazuya slaps at the buttons on his way past - Dull red OUT OF ORDER lights flicker, and he shrugs, with a wry grin.

"Eh, saw that coming. Good thing we brought our own, right?"

[ ] "...I didn't think this place was still here."[ ] "-When was the last time we came here? Feels like forever."[ ] "What's up, Kazuya?"[ ] "Care to hit a few balls, for old time's sake?"[ ] Free.

You still remember it, of course - The last, perfect day. Everything was brighter then, brighter and larger - Now, looking around the place, it seems faded and tawdry. Except it isn't the place that's changed, not entirely; You've changed, too.

It's been a lifetime.

"Yeah, well..." Kazuya's exuberant mood is slightly dampened - His voice sobering, for a moment. "-I happened to be in the neighborhood last week. Didn't think the old place was still standing - I thought, y'know, you'd like to know."

He puts his hands in his pockets - Looking over the chain-link fence, with a sigh. The tall buildings of the new city loom over the old mall; Their long shadows are somehow oppressive, despite the floodlights beaming down onto the green tarmac.

Kazuya shades his eyes with a hand, squints against the light.

"Man. That's *really* an eyesore; On a good night, you could see all the way to the other end of the city from here."

It's clear that he's building up to it, as he crosses the tarmac - He sets his bag down, with a dangerously casual flick of his wrist.

> [X] "Care to hit a few balls, for old time's sake?"

His eyes brighten.

"Thought you'd never ask."

Fortunately, it's all automated - The pitching machines are in surprisingly good condition, though it takes a bit of trial-and-error to find one that works. You count out a handful of tokens (Beneath a faded sign promising a family discount at the arcade) and slot them in, one at a time; With a familiar whirr, the machine rumbles to life, softballs feeding into the breech.

Kazuya's already in position - He tries on one of the plastic safety helmets, then tosses it aside, with a snort. His aluminium bat taps against the floor, as he settles into a batter's half-crouch...

The first ball is a speeding blur, that outraces the sound of it's own launch - The bat comes across as Kazuya swings for the fences, the satisfyingly loud *THWACK* of impact echoing for a long moment - Ending with a rustle as the ball impacts the netting at the far end.

"I'm just getting started." Kazuya's brow furrows, as he plants his feet - His concentration, absolute. His focus...*focused*. His face knits in a scowl, as he brings the bat up to his shoulder-

> [X] "How's Natsumi?"

-WHIFF-

"Aww, that's not *fair*."

He tosses the bat over, with an alarmingly casual flick of his wrist - You catch it the right way, the tape-wrapped grip slapping solidly into your palm. With a grunt, Kazuya settles himself down - You hear the pop-fizz of a can of soda opening, as he shrugs off his heavy coat.

"Yeah, well...I gotta admit - Things could be better on that front." His nose wrinkles. "-We've been taking things slow, but...Sometimes, it feels like she's just putting up with me, you know? I know it's a busy time, but...Aaah, I just don't know."

He glances up at you, with that familiar lopsided grin - "How's things on your end? Is all the, y'know, philandering working out for you?"

-WHIFF-

"Dude, I was just joking."

> [X] "Something on your mind?"

Kazuya has the grace to look slightly embarrassed, a hand to his head as he clears his throat - "Uh, actually...I got fired." He coughs lightly into his palm; "I'm not the only guy, at least. But, well...Easy come, easy go, right?"

Kazuya winces - "Yeah, probably shouldn't have said that. It's more like...They just let me go, y'know? They were really polite about it, and everything. Most of the other part-timers, too...It's an exodus."

He rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish gesture; "I wanted to ask Fumito-san about it, but...Turns out he's pretty busy." Kazuya makes a face. "...So that's how it is." He exhales, a slow sigh; Crumpling up the empty can, and making a desultory pitch at the bin. It bounces off.

> [X] "'Putting up with you'? That's a little harsh."

"I know, I know. It *is* a little harsh. It's just that..."

He looks up and away, troubled. "Ahhhhhh, I don't know. I'm beginning to wonder if it *can* work out, you know? It feels like Natsumi-chan's really trying, too, but..."

His voice trails off.

"...Feels like I said too much, already."

> [X] "Come on, it's more than that, isn't it? What's eating you?"

There's a discreet rustle, as Kazuya opens up a bag of prawn chips. He peers into the bag, as if contemplating the toxins that are about to enter his body...Before he sets it down to the side, the temptation momentarily defeated.

With a grunt, he pulls himself to his feet - Leaning against the batting cage. "-I just...Really, it's stupid...I just have a really bad feeling about things." Kazuya frowns, thoughtfully, as if considering his own words...

"What I'm saying is...The past few weeks, they haven't been great. Not for anyone. But...It feels like it's just the tip of the iceberg, y'know? Like there's something..."

...And apparently, that's where his imagination fails him - He settles for a helpless shrug. "It just feels like," Kazuya says, finally, "-That the world is *wrong*, somehow. Wrong, and getting wrong...er."

> "Everyone feels that way sometimes. Don't let it get to you."> "It is with great regret that I share the same feelings. The upcoming days feels like its going to be rough."

"You think so?" Kazuya's brow furrows - There's a thoughtful note to his voice. "...I was thinking, it's not like me at all. But given all that's been happening recently...Well, you have to wonder."

> "All these girls will be the death of me."

He chuckles, but it's a little sombre. "Yeah, well...Sometimes I envy you, Anon. You're spoilt for choice - I don't know what they see in you."

A thought crosses his mind, and he grimaces:

"God, I can't believe we're going to Seisin High in two days. If this keeps up...Man, you're going to be *insufferable*."

Kazuya gives you a sidelong glance, his expression wry: "Just remember, Anon - It can't last. At some point, you're going to have to *choose*...Or you're just going to end up hurting everyone."

He folds his hands behind his head; Looking up at the moon, hanging low and silver through the clouds. The shimmering glow lingers, dappling the slumbering city beyond - A wave of illumination melding with the thousands of lights below.

"Now, look at *that*," Kazuya says, with a low sigh. "-Isn't that something."

"Now *who's* getting all gloomy?" He claps you on the back, hard enough to make you wince - But then he grins, that irrepressible troublemaker grin that's got the two of you in and out of more scraps that you can remember. Soda sloshes, as he lifts his can in a mock salute; His expression sobering, just for a heartbeat.

"You and me, man - You and me. The two of us; We can take on the whole damn world."

Metal clashes, with a brassy clang - And in that perfect moment, beneath the light of an amber moon, Kazuya's words have the ring of prophecy.

(Gentlemen; My sincerest apologies, but it's extremely late on my end - And it looks to be the same on /tg/, too. This looks like a natural break point; I'd love to continue, but I'm completely exhausted.

I apologize for the comparatively slow pace of recent chapters; I'll admit that I may have underestimated the time involved for certain events. But thank you for your patience and your consideration.

>>30971028I wish we could have mentioned our troubles to him.He seems like the best candidate for hearing us out.

>>30971673>"You and me, man - You and me. The two of us; We can take on the whole damn world."...And now I wonder if we won't have another member for the napalm club.

Anyway, I seriously hope that the players keep>At some point, you're going to have to *choose*...Or you're just going to end up hurting everyone.in mind. The Yui part was a good first step, but it's only one step. We need to do more to finally decide....Finding Hecate would make it easier. At least then we know if she's alive.Hell, if we gather all three girls, we might find a way to talk it out. Even if it costs us another Nihl charge.

>>30973844>He got us on that one. If we'd warned Argent beforehand, or retreated in time, we would'nt be in this mess..We would also miss out on finding early on that Smiler's have revived Phantom Edge, made made an army of Pseudo-Bardiels, Pseudo-Thiefs and Amaglams and are trying to force Players into the Real.

>>30977043>I actually don't care about automation, I want to cover its vulnerabilities.We don't get essence while we drive it. It also disables our own weapons.When the thing automates, it can fight alongside us, ferry reinforcements, etc.Basically, it would be Lassy the tank.